Somebody
by screaming-poetically
Summary: Danny’s lost more people than he cares to remember he doesn’t want to lose another. DL.


**Title:** Somebody  
**Summary:** Danny's lost more people than he cares to remember; he doesn't want to lose another. DL.  
**Disclaimer:** The names of all characters contained herein are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS and Alliance Atlantis. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.  
**A/N:** I found this on my computer at 1:00 in the morning and finished writing it. Forgive me if it's shit.  
**Rating:** T

**Somebody**

"_The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost."  
-Anonymous_

Danny tries to remember the last time he was really happy. And he doesn't mean the kind of happy you are when it's nice outside, or you have the day off from work, or you find that CD you thought you lost. He means _happy_. Complete. The ability to feel deeply, to risk his life for someone, to enjoy simple things, to think freely; he wants happiness. And Danny honestly can't remember the last time he was happy because all he can think of are the bad times. Tanglewood, Louie, Aiden. Oh God, _Aiden_. And that's the worst of it.

He and Aiden were close. Were. He's already using past tense and he hates himself for it. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he should be thinking of Aiden's death as if it were unreal. As if it didn't even happen. And that did come into play three days afterwards; they were supposed to meet on the weekend for dinner. She would cook him some chicken parm and they would talk just like it was old times. And Danny went on Saturday and stood outside her apartment door for fifteen minutes before he remembered.

That's why he called Stella, but she didn't know what to say to him. All she would say was that sometimes bad things happened to good people, and that he was strong. "It'll be okay, Danny," she said. "I promise."

He wishes she hadn't said that because after he left Stella's apartment he went back to his own and he had the most awful nightmare, one about fire and death and Aiden, about cemeteries and Lindsay and loss. He didn't know how Montana came into it until he woke up halfway out of his bed, breathing erratically. All Danny knew, really, was that what it came down to was that he had had a nightmare about Aiden's death, and about losing Lindsay. It didn't make sense to him. It wasn't that he didn't like the girl, she was all kinds of wonderful. But she was everything he shouldn't want in a girl and _why_ was he thinking about this three days after Aiden's death?

He shouldn't be, he should be grieving and drinking and having nightmares. He is having nightmares, but they shouldn't be about losing some country girl who for all unknown reasons makes Danny think that he can be better. It's unnerving and he doesn't like it. Not one bit.

Two months later the pain has dulled from Aiden's death and everything has gone back to normal, or as normal as everything can get. Danny starts to wonder, though, as he works more cases with Lindsay if maybe there's something there. A case or two later she starts to act strange and he doesn't know why, so he asks Hawkes and his only reply is, "Maybe she knows now that you have a crush on her, Danny."

Which, of course, is totally ridiculous. It's not like Danny loves her or anything. Or maybe he does he just doesn't want to admit it because part of him believes that by liking Lindsay he's betraying Aiden. Replacing her, as it were. And that's ridiculous, because no one could ever replace the way he feels about Aiden—Danny will always love her, she'll always have a place in his heart—and country girl or no, Lindsay could never do anything to tear that away from him. Not even if he's in love with her.

He asks Lindsay to meet him in a corner café in Greenwich Village. They have good tea and pastries, and he knows that she likes both. Danny's been waiting in the café for a good thirty minutes before she shows up, shaking the rain from her umbrella and brushing her wavy hair behind her ears. She scans the room, finally spotting him a good ways towards the back; he waves her over, and when he tells her that he's ordered her some raspberry flavored tea and a croissant, she says, "They're my favorites, Danny."

He looks down at the table, at the napkin he hadn't even realized he had shredded. Danny smiles back up at her, head tilted. "I know that, Montana."

The way he says it has attitude, a special something just reserved for her. He doesn't like how he always acts so different around her – saving special barbs, grinning lazily, or saying things like "marry me" because she knows stuff about football. Maka knows about football and he's never asked her to marry him. But it's totally different with Lindsay and he doesn't know why, but at least Danny's trying to make it through without losing her.

After ten minutes of meaningless banter, he can't take it anymore. He asked her down her for a reason – to tell her that he can't bear to lose anyone else – and he's going to tell her, one way or the other.

"Lindsay. I need…" he takes a breath, steadies himself. "I need to tell ya somethin'."

She traces her fingers around the rim of her teacup before she lets herself meet his eyes. She can tell that Danny's very serious about this, she could tell from the moment she walked in the door. He's never very serious. At least, he doesn't act like it. He's always very _intense_, of course, which is a completely different thing. Lindsay supposes that's why she's drawn to him. Unpredictability is almost Danny's responsibility.

"I'm listening."

He leans back in his chair, presses his palms flat to the table. This position does not work. He's still not comfortable. In fact, even when he shifts in his chair, he's still not comfortable and then Danny just figures that this whole situation is going to be bad. It's going to be awkward until he just says what he means to say and Lindsay laughs in his face and, after finishing her tea, tells him that baby, we were never meant to be.

"I really loved Aiden. Ya know, we were best friends. Real good partners. An', ya know, she taught me alotta things, but mostly how to love. It's kinda funny, considerin', because I always thought I knew. I mean, who doesn't, right? But Aid, she really taught me."

Lindsay grips her teacup tightly in her hands. Clench, unclench.

"Danny…"

"Nah, you listen. Death is absolute; there's no goin' back from that. An' I've lost too many people in my life to just let it slide, Lindsay. Ya understand that?"

She nods. She can understand. Better than he thinks, even. Danny underestimates her sometimes, but she knows what it's like to lose someone dear to you. How it hurts so badly you feel like someone's cutting you up from the inside out. She'll tell Danny someday. Lindsay promises herself that.

"When ya lose somebody, ya lose somebody. There ain't no in-between place. I don't wanna lose two somebodies."

He's looking at her now, with that intense look her gets that makes Lindsay wish she knew him better. And then all of a sudden he reaches for her hand and she really understands what he was saying, what he's been trying to say all along these past few months but only recently got enough courage to say out loud. Now the only thing that she can come up with is,

"Oh, I see."

And it comes out weak, like she can hardly believe this is happening. And it's true, she really can't. For all of the flirting she does with Danny, she never really expected anything to come of it. Lindsay always expected to be waiting – weeks, months, years – for him to ask her on a date, but nothing would ever come of it. But, now that something has come of it she's nearly paralyzed with tiny, irrational fears. And to think that nothing has even happened yet. It's absurd.

"Is that," he says, "is that a good thing?"

He's so very nervous and she loves that. Lindsay has never made anyone nervous before. Except for Mac, and only two times because she was the new girl and then because he was worried she'd get carried away with the bow and arrow. She smiles brightly at Danny, brushing all non-related thoughts aside.

"A good thing," she replies. "A very good thing."

"Great. That's great. Really…"

Lindsay laughs. "Great?"

Danny grins, and realizes he's holding her hand. He gets anxious for a second but then he remembers that this is Lindsay and that if she minded she would've pulled away or said something by now. So instead he squeezes it gently, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He likes holding her hand; he thinks that maybe, he could get used to this.

"Yeah. Great."

And so they sit for hours, contemplating their very immediate future as a couple. It's not a simple thing and it's full of subtle details Danny didn't even think about (she wants the right side of the bed, if and when they move in together, and he cannot leave towels lying on the bathroom floor) but it will all work out for the best. After all, Danny hasn't felt this light in years. It is, for the first time in ages, that he can remember being truly and completely happy.

_finis._


End file.
